


Lick It Off

by badwolfbadwolf



Series: Teen Woof Tumblr Fics [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Comeplay, Dirty Talk, F/M, Group Sex, HaleCest, Humiliation, Incest, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-14 02:52:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1249993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfbadwolf/pseuds/badwolfbadwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hales use Stiles as their little toy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lick It Off

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eeyore9990](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/gifts).



> Written from a [tumblr](http://badwolfbadwolff.tumblr.com) prompt from the lovely [eeyore9990](http://eeyore9990.tumblr.com):  
> Okay. I want… The pack marking Stiles. Come all over him, so he’s the soggy biscuit. And he just loves it. Writhes in all their buckets o’come, holds his hands out for more. I just want come whore Stiles, the pack toy.

It must be a Hale thing, Stiles decides.  Expressive eyebrows paired with grumpy expressions that shouldn’t look so damn attractive.  Plus the fact that they are all incredibly built and sleek, tanned and gorgeous.  And naked.  Very, very naked.  There’s that, too.

He’s not quite sure how he’s ended up like this, pinned down on Derek’s bed by two large sets of hands while Cora brushes over him with long hair and wet lips.  She teases down his body, pausing to suck over one nipple until it tightens up beneath her teeth and causes him to moan out with a thrown back head.  His eyes want to squeeze shut but he forces them open so he can see Peter and Derek’s darkened features staring down at him, exciting him.  Cora slides wetly to the other side, her tongue lapping as Stiles drags in ragged breaths.  The air is cool on his nipple and he draws his legs up so he can hump his hips along the bed.

“Such a good boy, Stiles,” Peter whispers, his voice a wet lick along Stiles’ ear.  Stiles feels his hands being moved and stretched above his head, Derek transferring his hold over to Peter.  The bed dips and the Hales shift around him.  Cora is straddling him now, her long legs pressed against his sides, her wet folds sliding along his stomach.  Stiles’ body is drawing tighter as Derek pulls on his thighs and Peter pins his hands above his head.  He feels taut as a string on a violin, their expert hands drawing mewls and tiny whines from his throat effortlessly.

Derek folds Stiles’ legs up, bending him at the knees, drawing his ankles apart, opening him up to his gaze.  Stiles’ cock bobs against his stomach, the precome smearing thickly through the line of coarse hair there, the scent of it thick in the air even to Stiles.  He watches all three of their noses flare, knowing how he must smell to them.  He feels like his heart is beating ten thousand times in a millisecond and when Derek nudges forward with his nose and licks right along Stiles’ dick, Stiles nearly leaps off the bed.

Peter’s dark chuckle is right along his neck, the breath ghosting against his sweaty skin and making him shudder with the close sensation.  “You’re so pretty when you’re desperate,” Peter murmurs, and the voice is a dull drug that slides over his neck and travels down to the pit of his stomach.  “Such a good little whore.  So flushed and red and wet.”

Derek’s kneeling up now, stroking Stiles with one hand while rubbing his own cock right in the join of Stiles’ thigh and hip.  Stiles feels its thickness against him, how hard Derek is, how tight his hand is as he’s stroking Stiles with quick, twisting jerks of his wrist.

“What do you want, Stiles?” Derek asks, voice husky and raw, his stubble rubbing along Stiles’ knee momentarily as he draws a quick kiss there before biting down hard.  Stiles keens and cants forward, pressing into Cora’s wetness, straining against Peter’s hands holding him down.  

“I want…” Stiles trails off, sounding completely lost.  Cora travels up his body until she’s straddling his face, pushing down against him and creating a messy trail of wet all along his chin and lips.  Stiles opens up and laps against her obediently, struggling to push his tongue up into her body as she grinds down against him.

“I’m not sure I caught that, Stiles,” Peter says as he roughly tugs at Stiles’ wrists again, pulling him taut.  Stiles arches into their touch, feeling completely overwhelmed.  Derek’s fingers are prying him apart now, one rubbing just inward, the dry feeling making his eyes fly open.  He looks up into Peter’s gaze, Cora’s lithe body writhing above him at the edge of his vision.

Stiles can’t say anything more but struggles forward, trying to get his tongue to wrap around Cora but she’s not sitting still and he can hardly move from how he’s pinned down.  Derek’s fingers are slick now, one inching inward to just the knuckle and it’s pure torture to be able to move so little when he wants so much  _more_.

Peter chuckles darkly, apparently enjoying watching Stiles working so hard to get anything, and his fingers dig into Stiles.  He doesn’t have his claws out but his nails are sharp enough to sting, and Stiles feels tears beginning to prick at the corner of his eyes.

“Please,” he whispers right against Cora, looking up through his wet lashes at Peter who grins at him with sharp teeth.

Derek chooses that moment to clamp down with his fingers right at the base of Stiles’ dick and Stiles feels insurmountable pressure building up from his belly, the sensations making his hips buck up as one fat tear slides down his cheek.  There’s no warning as he feels a hot spill of come on his stomach, Derek’s grip torturously tight, his grunts incredibly hot as he spurts all over Stiles’ stomach.  Stiles doubles his efforts, wrapping his tongue around Cora’s clit and sucking hard until she’s trembling and grinding down into his face, her body shuddering and tight little moans pouring from her throat.  Stiles watches as she grips onto Peter’s shoulders as she shudders and comes, his own cock throbbing in sympathy in Derek’s grip.  He feels wet all over, used, his skin too-tight, his mind reeling.

When Cora moves off of him, Derek’s hands turn him over quickly and he feels his wrists rotate in Peter’s grip.  He can taste Cora on his lips, sharp and slippery, and Derek’s come is smearing between him and the sheets.  He feels his cock pulsing again, finally getting some friction against the mattress but then Derek tsks and pulls his hips up off the bed until he’s got his ass up and face pressed down.  He’s somewhat grateful that he doesn’t have to look at them because he knows how flushed and come spattered he looks at the moment.

Derek slides a hand underneath Stiles and pushes his fingers through the mess of come that is dripping down with gravity.  He gathers it up between his fingertips and reaches back around to push it inward with no finesse.  Stiles mewls out like a strung-out whore, and really, that’s what he is.  He pushes back into it, his shame gone, just wanting it badly enough to tremble in their hands.

“Look at your eager little hole, swallowing up my come,” Derek says and Stiles groans and pushes backward right onto his fingers.  He’s beginning to grow desperate now, the stretch in his arms aching from the prolonged position, his cock throbbing wildly.

There’s more shifting on the bed and Stiles feels Derek’s fingers on his wrists again as Peter releases him.  More shuffling and then Stiles’ face is in Derek’s lap and Peter is pulling him apart, pushing the head of his dick right against him.  Stiles is wet, so wet, Derek’s come all over him, and Peter just keeps pushing and pushing until Stiles is opening up around him, burning, stretching.

“Lick it off,” Peter orders, and Stiles opens his mouth and obeys.  Derek’s still half-hard, the taste of his come mingling on his tongue, sharper than Cora, the tang of soap and sweat and salt sweet in his nose.  Each thrust from Peter has him tipping into Derek until he’s mashing against his hipbones each time and just opening his mouth and panting.  He half wishes that Derek was still hard so he can be filled up by them both, both ends, gasping and aching, until he’s marked and covered with their come.

Derek’s eyes are dark and he holds Stiles’ face, making him look him in the eye as Peter continues to push into him with increasingly rough thrusts.

“Do you want his come, Stiles?  Do you want it in that tight ass?”

Stiles nods and Derek growls, his fingers tightening.  “Tell me.”

The pressure on his body from all directions is difficult and Stiles tries to swallow but it’s hard at the angle Derek is holding his head.  He can see Cora from the corner of his eyes, her hands running over her body lightly as she just watches.  “I want it, want his come.  Want all of your come.  Please.   _Please_.”

Derek smiles tightly then and Peter tenses up, his body growing rigid as he pumps once, twice more and then is coming with a groan and filling Stiles up to the brim.  Cora reaches beneath him to give him a quick squeeze and twist and then Stiles is crying out and burying his face into Derek’s thigh as he rides out his orgasm with Peter thrusting shallowly inside.

When Peter finally pulls out, Stiles can feel the warm sticky mess of come trickle outward.  It slides over his balls and along his inner thighs and he trembles there on hands and knees, waiting to be told what to do.

He can feel Peter’s grin and a pointed tongue snake against him, causing him to moan out in an over-sensitive howl.

“You look so good with our come on you, little pet,” Peter says, and Stiles has to flop down against the sheets as his body begins to shake.  Three sets of hands skim along his skin, the sweat and come mingling, spreading, drying, and Stiles closes his eyes and smiles, enjoying the petting.


End file.
